Apocalypse Baby-Chapter 164: Escape=Death

There was no time to dodge.

But Ezekiel reached her first.

With a powerful lunge, he grabbed her shoulder, yanking her behind him.

And in the same motion, he raised his shield.

A magic barrier flickered to life, shimmering in front of them.

The lava crashed against it—a flood of molten rock, hissing and burning against the shield’s surface.

Ezekiel gritted his teeth, his muscles tensed as he held firm against the impact.

The force was immense.

The lava spray ceased, the last embers hissing into the ground.

Freya didn’t hesitate.

She dashed forward, her body a blur as she closed the distance between her and the lava giant.

Then, she dove.

Her momentum sent her sliding beneath the towering undead, barely avoiding the molten drips that fell from its hulking form.

As she passed under, she thrust out both palms.

Slap!

Her hands connected with the giant’s bony legs.

Immediately, her ability activated.

The giant’s body was locked in place, unable to move.

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"Hot!"

Freya winced, yanking her hands away. Even though she had only touched it for a second, she got burnt. It was like its bones were burning, like touching a stove right after it’s been taken off the fire.

Her hands stung, but she gritted her teeth.

The mission was done.

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Ezekiel saw his opening.

He lunged forward, his greatsword raised high.

With a powerful swing.

SHRAAK!

The blade carved through the lava giant, slicing it clean in half.

For a moment, time seemed to pause.

Then...

Its massive body collapsed.

Molten lava spilled from its core, hissing as it splattered onto the ground.

The glow in its burning eye sockets faded.

The undead titan was dead.

Catching Their Breath

Ezekiel landed with a heavy thud, his body tense with exhaustion.

He planted his sword into the ground, leaning on it, breathing heavily.

Freya approached, rubbing her palms, trying to shake off the sting.

She glanced at him, then gave a small nod of approval.

"Good job."

A simple compliment.

But after that fight, it meant everything.

Ezekiel’s grip tightened on his sword, his expression tense.

"Don’t relax yet. More are coming."

Freya’s breath hitched.

She turned her head and froze.

A new wave of undead surged forward, their bodies crawling, limping, and sprinting toward them like a swarm of insects drawn to blood.

Her frown deepened.

They were endless.

Relentless.

Each time they cut one down, more took its place.

Like flies, they kept spawning.

And their numbers?

Way more than Alex’s clones could hold back.

Ezekiel let out a frustrated sigh. His gaze flickered toward Dorion and Onigi, still locked in battle.

The two warriors fought like they were in their own world, oblivious to the chaos raging around them.

Ezekiel’s teeth clenched.

"If those two would just work together instead of trying to kill each other, things would be way easier."

But he knew better.

There was nothing they could do about it.

Onigi’s rage was all-consuming. His thirst for revenge was absolute, and from the way they fought, it was clear—

Either he or Dorion would leave the fight battlefield alive.

Ezekiel exhaled sharply.

As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t.

And whether he liked it or not, it concerned him too.

Because he knew exactly where the Nightmare Points he’d received from Dorion came from.

He watched it happen yet he couldn’t bring himself to do anything.

Ezekiel exhaled sharply, forcing himself to push aside his frustration.

No time to dwell on what-ifs.

He turned back and saw more monsters were closing in.

Freya stepped forward, moving beside him.

For a brief second, neither of them spoke.

Then, as if reaching a silent agreement—

They stood their ground once more, weapons raised, ready to meet the next wave of undead.

It was only going to get tougher from here.

*

"Seriously?!"

Dorion gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse as he clutched his throat.

Warm blood oozed between his fingers.

Another cut. Another wound was left by Onigi’s blade.

His vision wavered as he staggered back, feeling the hot liquid pour down his chest.

No matter how hard he pressed his hand against the wound—

The blood wouldn’t stop.

"Damn it." He cursed under his breath.

[12 Immortal Body] was running out.

He had been trying to hold back.

Trying not to use it.

But now, he had no choice.

The taste of iron filled his mouth as blood seeped past his lips.

His breath hitched.

His chest tightened.

His vision blurred.

And his consciousness began to fade.

Then he heard footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Unyielding.

Each step crunched against the frozen ground, echoing through the dead silence.

Dorion’s heart pounded. A slow, dreadful rhythm hammering in his ears.

He turned and there he was.

Onigi.

Advancing without hesitation, his expression as cold as the ice forming beneath his boots.

Every step left behind a trail of frost, the very ground freezing solid in his wake.

The air crackled, charged with something unnatural.

Something deadly.

Dorion’s breath hitched.

A shiver crawled up his spine, sinking into his very bones.

His teeth clenched in frustration.

He didn’t want this.

But, there was no other choice.

With a grimace, he activated [12 Immortal Body].

A searing pain shot through his veins as his wounds knitted back together.

The gaping slit across his throat was sealed shut.

The blood vanished.

His body was whole again.

But the price—

Another life lost.

Dorion exhaled shakily, watching the reality of it sink in.

He was running out.

And this time, it was serious.

How did it come to this?

How did he end up facing a monster like this alone?

His fingers tightened around his scythe, the cold metal biting into his palm.

He forced himself upright, legs trembling beneath him.

Not from fear, but from the cold.

The kind that seeped into his bones, his lungs.

Like death itself.

His breath came in shaky, white puffs, dissolving into the frozen air.

His instincts screamed at him:

Run.

Flee.

Give up.

And then...

SHING.

A flash of silver.

The old man raised his sword.

And instantly the temperature plunged.

A wave of suffocating cold wrapped around Dorion’s lungs, squeezing the breath from him.

The ground beneath him creaked and split, frost spreading like veins across its surface.

Dorion staggered back, his chest tightening, his fingers stiff from the biting chill.

His pulse thundered in his ears.

He was trapped.

And the only way out...

Was death.